


Louder Than Words

by fizzyblogic (phizzle)



Category: All-American Rejects
Genre: Blow Jobs, Closeted Character, Fluff, Frottage, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-23
Updated: 2011-02-23
Packaged: 2017-10-15 21:24:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/165084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phizzle/pseuds/fizzyblogic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finding the happy moments in a closeted relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Louder Than Words

**Author's Note:**

> For xaritomene, who won me on help_haiti. Sorry it's taken me this freaking long to finish :/

  
**2001, Tyson's cousin's cabin**   


It's a Thursday afternoon, probably; they've been here for three days, so yeah, Thursday. But then it could be Friday, because it's been three nights, laying out on a blanket with Nick, playing on guitars and drinking beer and Tyson has been controlling himself quite well, really.

Except for how he's just starting to lean in and he can still save this, but he doesn't, he just falls toward him like it's taking forever and then Nick's looking at him, startled, asking, "What are you doing?"

"Uh." Tyson sits back up again. "Hoping you won't break my face, or stop being my friend, or tell everyone in town, or ... all of the above. You wouldn't ruin my life, would you?"

"The hell?" Nick is eyeing him, more sober than he was two minutes ago.

"You _wouldn't_ , would you?" Tyson presses, because it's quite important that his father doesn't find out he just tried to kiss another guy.

"No," Nick waves away the question, "but what the _fuck_?"

Tyson wraps his arms around his knees. "Nothing. Pretend it didn't happen, okay?"

"Not when you've got a face like a bear's just punched it." Nick takes another swig of beer. Tyson tries not to watch his throat. "You like me or something?"

"Yeah, pretty much. If you tell my dad, I swear to _God_ —"

"Ty, I wouldn't." Nick watches him. "I thought you like girls."

"I do," Tyson nods, " _a lot_. I also kind of like guys. A little."

"Oh." Nick sits with this for a few minutes, silence all around him. Tyson is very, very glad he picked the cabin in the middle of nowhere for this little coming-out session. "I'm not gay," Nick says once he's finished thinking about it.

"Didn't think you were," Tyson shuffles.

"So why'd you try to kiss me?"

It's a fair question. "Because I was sick of trying _not_ to make a stupid move," Tyson mutters to his sneakers. "Now you know, I guess. We're still a band, right?"

"Of course we're still a band, asshole." Nick punches him lightly on the arm. If that's all the physical contact there will be, Tyson will take it. "It wouldn't be gay if I let you suck my dick, right?"

Tyson stares at him, eyes wide. "I don't think so," he answers, slow. "Why, do you want your dick sucking?"

Nick shifts. "Well, I mean, maybe some time," he says, and Tyson's heartbeat slows back to normal.

"Oh." He thinks about this for a few seconds. "How about, when you want your dick sucked, and you don't got a girl, I could do it?"

Nick shrugs. "Sure. Why not, right?"

"Right." Tyson stares at the ceiling for a while. "So you're gonna get your dick sucked, and I ... get to suck it, I guess. Do I get anything else?"

Nick smiles at him, and kisses him sweetly, quickly, on the lips. Like a goodnight kiss. "Tell anyone about that and you're dead."

"Uh, _yeah_ ," Tyson rolls his eyes. "I'm not stupid."

"Oh. Right." Nick blinks a couple times. "It wouldn't be ... uh ... _really_ gay if we made out, right?"

"No, no, of course not," Tyson assures him, fast. "It's like — it's like we're European, right? They do that all the time there."

"Sure, yeah, European, exactly." And before he can change his mind, Tyson leans in, and two seconds later they're making out.

And it's amazing. Tyson cups Nick's jaw in one hand, and Nick yanks Tyson forward by his belt loops so one of Tyson's knees is each side of Nick's legs. Nick licks into Tyson's mouth and stuffs a hand down his back pocket and Tyson was not expecting this even a little bit.

"We could - we could - uh, we could keep doing that," Tyson suggests when they break apart for air.

"How about you suck my dick now?" Nick asks, pupils blown, lips swollen, palming Tyson's hard-on through his jeans.

"Fuck," Tyson breathes, and nods.

~*~

  
**2003, the Batcave**   


Tyson's lying on top of Nick, rubbing their dicks together through flimsy pajamas, when Nick whispers, "Stop a minute."

Tyson stills. "What, did you hear something?"

"Yeah, I think —" Everything is silent for several seconds. "I guess not," Nick shrugs, moving his hips again.

Tyson gets back to the rubbing, mouth fastened onto Nick's, suppressing any and all noise he wants to make. It is not in any way easy, because Nick is bucking into him and he just wants _all of their clothes gone_ , but if anyone walks in this way they can say they were wrestling.

"You know," Tyson pants quietly, "Mike and Chris know about us, yeah?"

"Well, yeah," Nick whispers. "This is not sexy talk."

"Oh. Right." Tyson grinds in circles for a while, feeling the slow start of the build at the base of his spine. Nick whimpers almost silently into his shoulder, and Tyson thinks _fuck it_ , yanks both their pajamas down at the front, and suddenly it's skin on skin. Tyson has to stifle his moans in Nick's chest.

"What the hell do you think you're —" Nick never finishes the sentence, though; Tyson comes on their stomachs, shuddering through every aftershock.

He wriggles down after, until his mouth is level with Nick's dick, and before there can be any protests Tyson takes it in and sucks exactly how Nick likes. He gets a full-body arch and fingers in his hair, and he sets to happily sucking away until Nick whispers, "Think I'm — watch out —"

Tyson swallows. He likes the taste, he likes the aftertaste, he likes waking up of a morning and instantly remembering what it felt like to suck Nick off. Plus, there's not so much mess that way. Nick is still panting when Tyson finishes cleaning up their chests and settles next to him.

"What did you do that for?" Nick hisses, once he's stopped looking completely blissed-out. " _Anyone_ could've walked in, and —"

"For your information," Tyson snaps, "tonight at least only Mike and Chris are home, and if they walked in on us, they wouldn't exactly be surprised. You do know that it's okay for us to do this, right?"

Nick pinches the bridge of his nose between two fingertips. "Shit, Ty, I know. I just — I get a little paranoid."

"Yeah well, looking too paranoid can make people suspicious, so you better watch that." Tyson stalks back to his own bed across the room, and lies down on his side. "G'night, Nicky."

"Ty," Nick murmurs. "Ty, I'm sorry."

Tyson sighs. "Yeah, I know. Maybe one day we'll move out of Oklahoma. Somewhere with a beach, and palm trees, and nobody suspiciously watching your every move to check you're not _gay_ or nothing."

"That'd be nice," Nick says with such longing that Tyson just stops being mad in the space of a second.

"Nick?" he says, carefully not turning over just in case.

"What?"

"I love you." He keeps his eyes on the wall all through the silence that follows, and then Nick's sliding into his bed and holding him from behind. Tyson shuts his eyes and starts to smile.

"I love you too, stupid," Nick murmurs as he kisses Tyson's arm.

~*~

  
**2007, the Georgia mountains**   


"Yo-de-lay- _heeeeeeeeeee-hoooooooooooooooo_ ," Tyson yells as loudly as he can.

Behind him, Nick laughs. "I think you just startled every animal in a five-mile radius."

Tyson grins. "That'll give them something to think about. Plus — advantage, mountains. Nobody can hear us here."

Nick pulls him closer. "That's what I'm talkin' 'bout," he smiles, and Tyson nods. Their mouths are very, very close together.

"Damn straight," he murmurs against Nick's lips. Tilts his head just a little, just enough.

Nick tastes of apple pie and cranberry sauce, because he'd insisted on bringing some of both, but Tyson knows that later tonight he'll taste of beer and pizza just like every other night this week. He laps at Nick's tongue as much as he can, feeling Nick groan and shove him against the cabin wall.

Tyson catches his breath when Nick's mouth moves to his neck. "Maybe we should take this inside," he suggests, between panted exhales.

"But that would involve stopping what I'm doing," Nick pointed out, already on his knees. Tyson bites his lip.

"There's a bird who keeps staring at me," he whispers, pointing to a nearby tree. The bird in question blinks creepily and carries on staring.

Nick rolls his eyes. "Fine. We'll go inside, then it can't watch. Perv," he shouts over his shoulder. The bird ruffles its feathers before spreading its wings and launching off the branch. Nick's already inside, though, so Tyson scrambles after him once his knees turn solid again.

Nick slams him against the wall as soon as the door is closed. "Now where were we," he smirks, and Tyson makes a mental note to go to cabins _always and forever_.

~*~

  
**31st December 2009, approaching midnight**   


Their lips meet, and Tyson hears clicking a second later. He ignores it and loses himself in pressing his lips against Nick's. He's lost count of how many times they've kissed over the past eight-something years, and it never, ever gets old.

Nick's holding himself slightly away, slightly tense, slightly apprehensive. Tyson doesn't care, he throws enough of his heart behind the kiss for both of them. Eyes closed, a perfect contentment settles into his skin.

When they break apart, Tyson smiles. "There, that wasn't so hard."

"I still say people will call us gay," Nick shakes his head.

Tyson shrugs. "Let them." He slips an arm around Nick's shoulders, calls out, "This one isn't for the internet," and kisses Nick again. This time, Nick kisses back like his heart's exploding as much as Tyson's is.

~*~

  
**2010, the California hills**   


They haven't been on a writing trip to a cabin in _years_ , and Tyson misses it. They pack the car up with Nick's favourite beer and wine, their guitars, a large stack of DVDs, and plenty of food. "Dude, we gotta take South Park," Nick adds a boxed set to the pile last, and Tyson shuts the car door before everything falls out.

It's beautifully quiet when they get there, a cabin nestled on the shores of a lake. Nick unpacks everything while Tyson skims stones in the late afternoon light. Nick cooks, because they brought pasta and sauce and he's great with those things. They eat out on the porch, watching the sun set behind the trees.

"I love it when we come to places like this," Tyson murmurs after dinner. They're standing in the kitchen, Nick's arms around him from behind. "You're always so much more relaxed."

"Hey, you know I'm not ashamed or anything, right?"

Tyson makes a dismissive noise. "I don't so much listen to what you say as what you do," he says, turning around. "And when you do this," he kisses him, lightly, a gentle touch, and breathes, "that's all I need to know."

Nick kisses him, hard and fierce and deep, leaning against the counter. Tyson hums contentedly and kisses back as though his whole life depends on it.

He wakes up the next morning, sunlight pushing its way unceremoniously through the curtains, with his legs tangled up in Nick's. Tyson lies there for a minute, drinking in the sight of Nick's eyelashes, the way his mouth rests in sleep, the curve of his arm. He presses kisses in a line over every patch of skin he can reach, and Nick smiles himself awake.

Later they'll get guitars out and start writing some new songs. Later they'll make sandwiches and watch cartoons and quote movies at each other. Right now, Nick yawns and settles into Tyson's arms and Tyson goes back to sleep.


End file.
